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Wales Poetry

The Death Of Owain
Lo! the youth, in mind a man, Daring in the battle's v...

The Lily And The Rose
Once I saw two flowers blossom In a garden 'neath the h...

The Lament Op Llywarch Hen
The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ...

Pennillion
Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh g...

The Sick Man's Dream
Dans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste...

My Father-land
Land of the Cymry! thou art still, In rock and valley, str...

The Swan
Thou swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like...

The Deluge
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr...

Roderic's Lament
Farewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet...

Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Invocation To The Summer To Visit Glamorganshire,
Where he spent many happy years at the hospitable mansion o...

A Bridal Song
Wilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are...

The Grove Of Broom
The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go...

The Lord Of Clas
The Lord of Clas to his hunting is gone, Over plain and...

The Circling Of The Mead Horns
Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead...

To The Lark
"Sentinel of the morning light! Reveller of the...

The World And The Sea: A Comparison
Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ...

Twenty Third Psalm
My shepherd is the Lord above, Who ne'er will suffer me to...

Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns
Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa...

The Rose Of Llan Meilen
Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i...

The Flowers Of Spring
beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ...



Taliesin's Prophecy






Category: The Patriotic.

A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,
O Cambria! thus thy prophet bard, thy Taliesin sung,
The path of unborn ages is trac'd upon my soul,
The clouds, which mantle things unseen, away before me roll.

A light, the depths revealing, hath o'er my spirit passed;
A rushing sound from days to be swells fitful on the blast,
And tells me that for ever shall live the lofty tongue,
To which the harp of Mona's woods by Freedom's hand was strung.

Green island of the mighty! {87a} I see thine ancient race
Driv'n from their fathers' realm, to make the rocks their dwelling place!
I see from Uthyr's {87b} kingdom the sceptre pass away,
And many a line of bards and chiefs, and princely men decay.

But long as Arvon's mountains shall lift their sovereign forms,
And wear the crown to which is giv'n dominion o'er the storms,
So long, their empire sharing, shall live the lofty tongue,
To which the harp of Mona's woods by Freedom's hand was strung.





Next: The Monarchy Of Britain

Previous: The Battle Of Gwenystrad



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